No Faith In The World
by Rue Darkmoon
Summary: What if Sirius had arrived ten minutes earlier and had taken Harry with him before going after Wormtail? Now he's on the run with the world's hero. Time changes everything. Faith changes the world. Love can withstand both.
1. the default chapter

CHAPTER ONE - No faith left in the World.  
  
Faith, oh what a sweet thing,  
Belief is the best comfort,  
for belief is forgiveness  
in one way or another.  
-Anonymus  
  
Sirius leapt off his motorcycle, leaving it running, and as it's steady rumble pounded into the earth like thunder, he ran forwards, half stumbling, with his black hair flopping down into his eyes towards the fiery ruins that was Godric's Hollow.   
  
He reached the centre of the wreck and the world swirled around him as he fell to his knees amongst the rubble, a primal howl tearing it's way out of his throat, the receding flames, the half-broken door, the blocks of stone.... a child's cry.  
  
Sirius whirled around faster than was humanly possible. Harry, his mind whispered in disbelief, the little-lion, Leo, they had called him. He crawled forwards, the world unfocused about him as his tears marked their way down his cheeks.   
  
He had not cried since he was eight years old, and now he cried for a lost brother.   
  
And for that lost brother's one-year old son.  
  
*Flashback*  
  
Sirius grinned a wolfish grin as he crept up the stairs, carrying a bundle in his arms, tiptoeing drmatically, lifting his legs up to his chest each time he took a step. He heard a muffled laugh behind him and he twisted his head to look disapprovingly behind him. Moony and Wormtail hung their heads in mock-sorrow.   
  
He bent onto his knees to be on eye-level with them and whispered commandingly, How do you expect us to be able to pull of this kidnapping if utmost silence is not preserved? He scoffed, grinning, and turned to carry on tiptoeing up the stairs. The moonlight filtered through the windowss, casting the features of the house into sharp relief.   
  
Finally they reached the top of the stairs and rounded the corner, on their way to the front door, when Srirus almost ran into two people.  
  
And just where do you think you are going with my child? Demanded Lily, putting her hands on her hips as she glared down at the three cringing Marauders, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards.  
  
James folded his arms, You guys are really losing your touch, you know.  
  
Sirius opened his mouth to retort -   
  
*End Flashback  
  
NO! His mind snapped back to the present as he reached the bawling boy. Shh, Harry, it's alright. He whispered to the child, picking him up.   
  
But it wasn't alright, it never would be.   
  
He cradled Harry in his arms and looked down and saw the pale, creamy white skin of Lily's arm. His eyes followed it up to look onto her face, her red hair spilling out around her like the blood that never spilt.  
  
Sirius choked on a sob, and turned away, feeling like he was betraying Lily in doing so. He raised his eyes to the moon for a moment, and his despair vanished.  
  
Peter.  
  
He would pay.  
  
Sirius ran over to his motorbike, his long legs nimbly avoiding the rubble as he held Harry securely against his chest. He gunned up the engine and rose up over the sky.  
  
Oh yes, he would pay.  
  
~  
  
Hagrid appeared beside the ruins, his eyes already red and wet from crying. He scanned the area.   
  
Nothing.  
  
He came forwards so that he was in the middle of the ruins and looked around more carefully.  
  
No Harry.  
  
He paused and listened hard for a minute.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Finally he walked around the rubble, upturning things nad calling out frantically.  
  
No Harry.  
  
Panic in his eyes, Hagrid disapparated. He appeared in front of Professor Dumbeldore and Mcgonagol.  
  
He wasn't there.  
  
~  
  
  
  
A short, round man turned around, the moment he saw who had called his name, he started trembling, his small eyes darting around furtively.  
  
Sirius strode forwards, rage evident in evey line of his form. His wand was out and pointed at Peter threateningly.  
  
A spark glinted in the short man's eyes, and his expression changed dranatically to one of despair and anger.  
  
Lily and James! How could you Sirius? He yelled out, and the muggles on the high street turned around, the loudness of the accusation drawing their attention.  
  
Peter - Sirius started warningly, but never finished, the street cracked and shook, and a hige chasm opened in the middle of it. Screams of panic split the air asunder. Sirius watched in shock as Peter transformed and disappeared.  
  
He might have stood there in shock until the Aurors had arrived but for Harry's cry of fear.   
  
Turning on his heel, Sirius gave a practised leap and landed on the motorbike. His blue eyes gave on last agonized look at the chaos around him before he ginned the motor and once more disappeared above the clouds.  
  
~*~  
  
DAILY PROPHET  
  
THE BOY WHO LIVED KIDNAPPED BY SIRIUS BLACK - MASS MURDERER  
  
Last night, the one-year Harry Potter aka The Boy Who Lived, survived an Avada Kedavra cast by You-Know-Who, and caused his downfall. His parents, James Harold Potter and Lily Evans-Pottter, were killed and it is a mystery as to how their child survived the killing curse.  
  
However, You-Know-Who's right hand man, Sirius Black, was best friend to the unknowing couple and betrayed them to his master. The next day, Black, obviously driven insane by You-Know-Who's timely demise, was driven to murder another of his best friends, Peter Pettigrew when Mr Pettigrew tracked down Black.  
  
During this confrontation, muggles reported having seen an infant in Black's possession which we know now is the young Harry Potter. As to our young her's fate, we do not know, but can only pray. The full complement of Aurors are conducting a world wide search for the boy, but it is unlikely that Mr Potter is still living due to Black's insanity and loyalty to the vanquished Dark Lord.  



	2. Hakuna Matata

CHAPTER TWO  
  
Argh! Sorry people about the wierd way this chapter turned out before.....Hope this is better!  
  
Author note - This chapter is kind of like an in-between chapter to show what has been happening in the aftermath of the ÔBig Event;.  
  
HAKUNA MATATA versus FOILED HUNTS  
  
THREE YEARS LATER  
  
ÒPaÕfoot! PaÕfoot! Look! Anudder one!Ó  
  
A healthy, muscular, very tanned man looked up, his blue eyes crinkling in amusement as the small boy ran in on his short legs, dressed only in a pair of boardies, also heavily tanned, with his messy black hair falling into his brightly intelligent green eyes, clutching a scrunched up piece of paper in his fist, waving it about triumphantly.  
  
Sirius plucked the paper out of his godsonÕs hand and unfolded it, revealing the front page of the equivilant of the Daily Prophet in the Caribbean. He scanned the front page, the headlines screaming;  
  
NEW LEAD ON SIRIUS BLACK - MURDERER OF HARRY POTTER!  
  
Harry looked up at Sirius with green eyes, blantantly confident in his knowledge, ÒThey Ôr soooo stupid, PaÕfoot, they still tÕink that you did it, ANÕ they thinÕ that they can find you!Ó  
  
He still had trouble producing some of the words, or perhaps that was just plain laziness, but Sirius found his way of speaking rather cute. He reached forwards and ruffled up HarryÕs hair even more, making the young, four year old boy squirm in annoyance.  
  
Although he didnÕt say it, the fact that HarryÕs words and attitude towards the whole thing was unyieldingly on SiriusÕs side, made SiriusÕs conscience rest much easier. The moment Harry had been old enough to understand the basics of what had happened to his parents, Sirius had sat him down and told him both sides of the story and that most of the Wizarding World considered him guilty.  
  
He had sat in apprehension, watching the young boy looking unusually thoughtful for someone his age and had internally cursed himself, Harry was too young to find out about all of this -. He had been interrupted as Harry had looked up, looking unusually mature and perceptive and had pronunciated what had been and still was, his only properly spoken sentence. The words he had said were written on SiriusÕs heart forever.  
  
ÒYou could never hurt Prongs or Mum, Padfoot, youÕre too strong.Ó  
  
Sirius shook off his contemplative mood, and turned over to the scrapbook placed on the corner of desk that was crammed full. Sirius flipped through it, smiling at all the articles and pictures on him and Harry, and all the conspiracy theories about what had happened. He reached a blank page and stuck in the latest article.  
  
Harry was shifting from foot to foot, looking bored, the heat seemingly not affecting him at all.  
  
Before tracking down Peter, Sirus had gone to Gringotts, before anyone knew what had happened, and completely emptied the Black family vault. Charming it all into a bag, he had left, hunted down Peter, and made a beeline straight for the Caribbean.   
  
He had found a small island, with a population of about forty, but with the most beautiful white sand and palm beaches and blue clear ocean surrounding it.   
  
He had bought a small house on the beach front, with a kitchen, two bathrooms, a living room, an eating room and two bedrooms. The beach that their house was on only had the one house and so, the beach was basically theirs, with the village a few hundred metres inland, separated from them by a small tropical forest which Harry was continuosly exploring.  
  
Sirius smirked slightly at Harry, ÒWell, if youÕre bored, it must be time for your lessons.Ó  
  
Harry looked up with something akin to horror in his eyes, backing away frantically, his hands waving in front of him, ÒI neÕer said I was bor-ed!Ó He exclaimed, making a rapid retreat towards the door. Sirius got up and caught him withing two strides, lifting him up off the ground by the neck of his shirt, ÒOh, no, youÕre gonna stay here, donÕt you want to learn magic?Ó  
  
Harry shook his head rapidly, his feet running on the air, ÒOh no.Ó He said calmly, ÒItÕs tha theoÕry that I donÕ like, why canÕt I learn REAL magic?Ó  
  
Sirius whisked Harry back to the desk, ÒBecause weÕll get caught if you do.Ó   
  
This wasnÕt exactly true, Sirius had wards of all kinds up to stop magic from escaping and gertting in, which included the signals, but it was a good threat to keep Harry from complaining too much.  
  
ÒAnd -Ó He added, Òwhen you do get to do magic, youÕll find it soooo much easier.Ó  
  
With a small amount of grumbling the hyper toddler settled down, knowing that later on in the afternoon, Sirius would come with him for a swim.  
  
~  
  
Albus Dumbledore looked around at the gathered people. There was Arthur Weasley, with Molly back at home struggling with the five-year old twins, her four year old son and youngest child, Ginny. Mad-Eye Moody was there, his grizzled face cast into shadow by his hood, Arabella Figg, Remus Lupin, Nicolas Flamel, Minerva, Severus, and perhaps ten other individuals, including the head of Aurors, Patrick Ashtomn.  
  
This man stood up first, his commanding presence, six feet tall with grizzled brown hair and an experienced face, getting everyoneÕs attention, his cool grey eyes swept the room before he swept his arms wide and dropped a stack of papers onto the table.  
  
ÒNothing, nothing and nothing.Ó He announced. ÒBlack took Harry, got his money, killed fourteen people and disappeared. Nothing.Ó He repeated with finality, ÒThree years of our best experts on the case, along with everyone else, and what have we got to show for it? Nothing.Ó He snarled, face twisting with distaste, ÒWe trained Black too well.Ó He announced,and sat down.   
  
The irony of it was not lost on anyone. Black had been on the list to be the next head of Aurors, his record was the best of anyoneÕs, he was brilliant, now he was gone, and he had taken Harry with him.  
  
Dumbledore did not stand but his seat at the head of the old oaken table ensured attention as he said, ÒBut what is Black doing? It is not in his nature to lie low, and he has nothing to gain from doing so. Voldemort - Ò  
  
Several people winced at DumbledoreÕs use of the name, but he continued as if nothing had occurred, ÒIs vanquished, probably never to return, and so we must assume that Black is insane, but if so, why is he hiding? It is contradictory and has no sense, so unless we can find a way to know what he is thinking, we can not hope to find him. Remus?Ó This last question was directed at a youngish man with greying hair, his grey eyes reflected years of weariness and as the man in question rose to his feet, a glimmer of something flashed in his eyes.  
  
ÒSiri- Black, as I knew him... would not stay hidden unless he had good reason to, which means that he either hopes, knows that He-Wh- Voldemort, will be back or there is....something else that has kept him hiding.Ó He paused and looked around the room, ÒAnd I donÕt know what.Ó  
  
~  
  
Harry pushed the chair back from the desk with a loud screeching sound. He flipped his hair out of his face and stared up at Sirius with wide, pleading green eyes, ÒCan I go see Mali now? Pulleeeease?Ó He dragged out the last word, already on his way to the door, his head turned to look at Sirius ove rhis shoulder.  
  
Sirius grinned and rose from his chair as well, following Harry out of the door and onto the wide, open veranda that opened onto the beach. He threw himself into the expansive hammock, folding his arms behind his head.  
  
ÒI donÕt see why not, unless MaliÕs tired of you, I wouldnÕt blame her.Ó  
  
Harry glared as he bounded off the proch and ran off, ÒBugÕer off, PaÕfoot.Ó He yelled.  
  
Sirus sat up, sending the hammock rocking wildly, ÒDonÕt you dare use that word ever again, Leo!Ó  
  
He sighed and fell back into the hammock, watching as Harry disappeared into the trees, not heeding his words at all, his short legs moving at top speed. He looked out at the ocean, the clear blue waves lapping gently across the beach, rolling off the ivory sand.  
  
HeÕd always loved the Caribbean, and hadnÕt cared who knew.  
  
~  
  
Far away, a man suddenly awoke, sweating heavily, his eyes rolled across the room as he panted and threw his covers off.  
  
ÒThe Caribbean, he is in the Caribbean.Ó  
  
~*~~*~~*~  
  
Phew, second chapter, very short chapters so far, but school is really taking itÕs toll.... Anyway, my first attempt at a cliffie, hmmm, what was this chapter like??? Please review! ItÕs not THAT hard....is it?  
  
Aragorn821 - Thanks for the review! I love AU fics too, and this is my very first fic, so I just hope my plot bunnies stay under control!  
  
bob-the-bear - Wow! Thanks, if my writing starts getting worse just flame me and IÕll get back on track :) I hate wormtail too, stupid rat...  
  
Civenus - I will try as hard as I can to update regularly, thanks!  
  
If I missed anyone out, sorry, and thanks, but IÕm in a hurry to get this chapter up! 


	3. Dares and Discoveries

CHAPTER 3 - Dares and Discoveries.  
  
ÒMali!Ó Harry impatiently hit the light wooden door, his feet prancing on the earthen road, ÒMali!Ó he called, knocking harder, and almost fell in when the door was opened suddenly. He looked up sheepishly at the tall, black woman staring down at him with laughing chocolate eyes. ÒOh, er.... ÒHi! Ms Hurranii!Ó He looked around furtively, ÒIs, umm, Mali thÕer?Ó  
  
The lady smiled, turning around and walking back into the small cottage, holding the door open behind her, ÒIÕll just get her.Ó She said, her voice soft low. ÒMALI! HarryÕs here!Ó  
  
ÒIÕM COM-EEN!Ó A small black girl with her dark hair cut boyishly short and springing into tight curls, skidded into the hallway.   
  
Her eyes lit up when she saw Harry and she made a beeline straight for the door, turning around to face her mum once she was outside.   
  
ÒYou donÕt mind if I go to the beach, do you Maman? Thanks!Ó She slammed the door closed and turned to Harry, her eyes sparkling mischieviously. ÒWhere are we going today?Ó  
  
Harry always had *some* sort of adventure hidden up his sleeve, whether it be exploring that old hollow tree in the small jungle, finding the crowÕs nest, or climbing the small mountain that resided on the other side of the island.  
  
Harry started trotting along, looking at Mali as she kept pace beside him, ÒI thoughÕ thaÕ we might go anÕ see tha stingrays in tha corÕal reef!Ó He proclaimed, spreading his arms wide.  
  
ÒCool!Ó Mali answered, then paused, looking confused, ÒAhh, Harry, where is the reef?Ó  
  
Harry looked at her scornfully, ÒItÕs in my beach!Ó  
  
ÒReally?Ó Mali had never actually been to HarryÕs house or beach before.  
  
ÒCool!Ó  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
ÒAre you sure about this Albus? I mean it is just a hunch...Ó Arthur Weasley forwned as he sat down, a coupe of other people murmuring in agreement.  
  
ÒAnd a hunch is the best lead weÕve had in three years.Ó He paused, blue eyes weeping the room, and finally coming to rest piercingly on Remus Lupin, ÒWe search the Caribbean.Ó  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Sirius glanced up from his hammock, smiling as he saw the dark girl and Harry splashing out to the reef. He didnÕt worry that much, partly because Harry had been swimming in these waters for as long as he had been able to walk, and partly because he was laid-back about the whole parenting thing. He wanted Harry to see him as a friend, not an authority figure.  
  
He lay back down, putting his book aside, closing his eyes and letting the sunÕs warmth and the gentle sound of waves lull him to sleep.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Mali glanced around uncertainly, treading the clear cool water, ÒHarry?Ó She called spinning around, ÒHarry?!Ó She had started to panic slightly, when he surfaced beside her, bobbing in the water, black hair plastered across his face, hiding his lightning scar.  
  
ÒThis way! ThereÕr baby stingÕays too!Ó He grinned toothily, and started swimming towards a rock a hundred metres or so away.  
  
Mali followed and was rewarded when a herd of stingrays came out of the darkness of the rock. She cooed in delight as the two small ones came into view.  
  
ÒIÕm gonna touch one.Ó She declared, much more bravely than she felt.  
  
Harry looked uncertain, ÒUh, okaaaay, buÕ watch out for their tales, they sting ya.Ó  
  
He looked on worriedly as Mali dived down and gently touched, one of the smaller stingrays, snatching her hand back as soon as she did. Then pushing off the sandy bottom she broke the surface and stuck out her tongue at Harry.   
  
ÒDare you to touch a big one.Ó She challenged.  
  
Harry looked down at the bottom, where the stingrays were milling about in the confusion of sand Mali had caused when she pushed off the bottom. His resolve stiffened, and he lifted his chin slightly before diving down.  
  
He gently stroked one of the big ones, then the other. Both jumped under his touch and moved away quickly.  
  
Harry bobbed up next to Mali, ÒI touched two!Ó He held up two fingers, grinning excitedly.  
  
Mali harrumphed, then her face stiffend into a scowl, ÒI can do that too.Ó She insisted.  
  
ÒProve it.Ó  
  
Mali dived down again, but this time, with the stingrays already agitated from the sound and sand milling about them. THey reacted.  
  
As Malis hand touched the largest stingray, spanning about two metres across, itÕs tail came up in a huge arc, quicker than the blink of a panicked emerald eye, and lashed into the young girlÕs leg. Blood quickly seeped into the water, turning the cool blue liquid murky.  
  
ÒMali!Ó Harry yelled, panicking, and caugh a glimpse of his friend, sinking slowly towards the bottom, her head lolling about on her shoulders.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
Back in the hammock, Sirius awaoke suddenly, some sixth sense awkening him. All was not right. He ran inside and grasped his wand, performing a check of the island around him. His breath caught in his throat.  
  
They had been found.  
  
He scooped up the shrunken bag of cash off his bed and charged outside. He saw some splashing off the beack and yelled ÒHARRY! WE HAVE TO GO RIGHT NOW!Ó  
  
A black haired head broke the surface, barely visible ÒPAÕFOO! MALIÕS HURT REAL BAD! HELP! PAÕFOO! PLEASE!Ó  
  
Sirius spun around on the beach, they had been found, if they caught him, Harry would be taken away form him. Harry would not leave Mali. He could not leave Harry. They had no time. Aurors would be apparating at every point of the island. Soon the villagers would point them in the direction of this small beach. No time.  
  
The thoughts flashed through his head. [i]No time.[/i]  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Remus looked around him as he raced htrough the forest, aurors visible through the canopy, each making their own way towards the small beach that the natives had told them that a man was staying at.  
  
He could just see the ocean through the trees.  
  
[i]Almost there[/i]  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Mwahaha! *evillaugh**hackcough**evillaugh*  
  
Third chapter! Hmmm...IÕm not sure, is my writiing going down hill, are you people bored???? If so, please tell me! And if you have nay suggestions for the story or questions, please ask away! Even flame me if you want, just make sure you put something to work on in the flame.  
  
Thanks to all of my reviewers, I would list you all, but I want to get this chapter up....  
  
Hmmm...I hope that this doesnÕt go all funny like the last chapter did, and speaking of that, they last chapter is still a bit out of it, but anyway, I hope this one works out......  
  
Please, please review! All reviewers will go on my dedicated to page on the novel that I WILL someday publish! I hope..... 


	4. Missed Chances

CHAPTER FOUR: MISSED CHANCES AND REALISED THINGS  
  
A/N Whoo! I reliased that all of my apostraphies are fixed, so if you had trouble reading the past two chapters, they are fixed! Well, they are on my laptop at least...I just hope this chapter will work as well.....  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The squad of Aurors burst out of the thick canopied forest to find an isolated beach, small but a beautiful. And....  
  
"Too peaceful." Remus growled, striding forwards, eyes scanning the ivory sand. It was true, the clear, blue waves lapped gnetly against the sun warmed sound as a slight breeze rustled the palm trees softly.  
  
Patrick Ashtomn walked forwards, down to the very shore of the beach, his booted feet maiking soft depressiions in the sand. His eyes looked piercingly out to the ocean for a moment before he barked.   
  
'Spread out, search the entire beach.'  
  
The Aurors did so, sweating heavily in their navy auror robes. Remus, however, sat down where the search had started, and looked wonderingly across the beach.   
  
'How do you do it, Black? Every time, gone, no clues.'  
  
Sudenly a cry pierced the beach.   
  
'SIR! COME QUICKLY!'  
  
Rmeus sprang up off the ground, breaking into a runc towards the young Auror waving his hands in the signal that he had found an important something.  
  
Remus and Patrick Ashtomn reached the Auror at the same time. and stared down at the sight.  
  
A youn girl, a native, dark skinned and dark haired, perhaps four years of age, was lieing unconscious on the gorund, the waves lapping her body softly. A bandage, looking like it had been jury rigged off a piece of clothing was binding her leg , were splotches of red were starting to seep through.  
  
As they stared, the young girl moaned softly and blearily opened her eyes. "Wha? What?Ó She said, confused, staring at the strnage ffaces around her.  
  
Patrick Ashtomn bent down to be more on her level, he stared at her intently, placing a comforting hand on each of her shoulders.  
  
"Are you okay, young Miss? What happened, who did this to you?"   
  
Remus glanced up at the Head Auror sharply, realizing what he was implying. Perhaps Sirius had....  
  
But the girl shook her head, whispering, "I was...playing wif tha stingrays, over there. "  
  
She made a slight motion with her hand, off into the water.  
  
"What? On your own?" The AurorÕs face was looking shocked.  
  
The girls dark eyes found his cold grey ones.  
  
"Yes, on my own."  
  
*Flashback*  
  
Sirius whirled around, whipping his wand out, and summoned the two children to him. Harry was openly crying, the tears making tracks down his face as he bawled.  
  
"Pa-foo! Shes dead! Shes dead!"  
  
"Hush, Leo! SheÕll be alright."  
  
Sirius knelt down and conjured up a trip of material. Quickly, with furtive glances at the forest, he knew they were coming, he bound MaliÕs wound, they would heal her when the came.  
  
"Mali! Mali! Listen to me!" Sirus muttered a spell as he said this, waking up the young girl. "Mali, you have to promise not to tell anyone about Harry! Okay? Nobody! And tell the village to do the same, please, remember, do not tell anyone about Harry"  
  
Mali forwned in confusion, "Wh, why?Ó She whispered, paling from blood loss.   
  
HarryÕs tousled head popped into her view,  
  
"Mali, never forget meh, but don' tell any one abou' meh! Please, promise! IÕll visit you, and tell ya why later!"  
  
Harry truly had no idea what was going on, but Padfoot had drilled him on what to do if he ever told Harry that they had to go. It meant that they had to leave, disappear, because the bad people had found them.  
  
Mali smiled blearily, "I promise Harry."  
  
Sirius stood and whirled his wand, muttering, the beach house shimmered out of view. He grabbed Harry and grasped the amulet around his neck.   
  
The last thing Mali saw before losing consciousness agian was Harry and Sirius disppearing in a whirlwind of color.  
  
*End Flashback*  
  
Remus stood as two Aurors lifted Mali and carried her back to the village, then turned to face Patrick.   
  
"Was he even here?" Remus sighed, scannign the empty beach once again. "He must have been, weÕll search the beach for any concealed sights." Patrick was practically smouldering with anger, Black had been there and they had missed him, and in doing so most probably let him injure a child. He growled deep in his throat and walked down to the other end of the beach.  
  
"REVEALING CHARMS, I WANT THE WHOLE BEACH STRIPPED DOWN!" He hollered, venting his anger on the team of Aurors, who hurriedly whipped out their wands and began Ôstrippping downÕ the beach.  
  
It didnÕt take too long.  
  
It was Alastor Moody who discovered the beach house, having encountered some reistance to his charm, he had used a different one, highly illegal of course, but nobody cared when the beach house was revealed.  
  
It was a simple affair. A wide, open veranda with a porch lolling carelessly in the wind, with a light wooden door swinging on itÕs hinges.   
  
The first Auror who tried to enter, a young freckled woman with red hair pulled back into a bun, was thrown back ten metres with a loud bang, and lay still on the sandy beach, unconscious.  
  
The house was approached with much more caution after that. The Aurors advanced in a strategic wedge, casting protection and disarming charms continuously in front of them as they passed through the house.  
  
Once the entire house had been cleansed of traps, Patrick entered. His eyes picked up several things at once as he did a cursory search of the house. Everything was in its place, nothing had been packed, or even half packed, no draws left half open or tables and chairs overturned. He searched through the main bedroom, but found nothing other than the ordinary accesories to a bachelorÕs room.  
  
Then he crossed the living room to the other door he had seen, he opened it and walked through it was a bedroom, but not a spare one, this one had been lived in. The bed was rumpled, clothes were strewn across the floor and toys -   
  
His breath caught in his throat as he realised the implications to what he was seeing.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A/N God, I hope this chapter turned out alright, the last ones have been a disaster what with all the html problems... Bah. Anyway, thanks to all my wonderful reviewers for telling me about the problem, I probably wouldnÕt have relaized for weeks if it werenÕt for you guys, hugs all around!  
  
As always, if this chapter isnÕt written to your contentment, or you have ideas to change it or for the story ahead, please review and tell me, and IÕll see if I can work on it or whatever. Okay, till next chapter!  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


	5. Of Africa, Shamans and Gypsies

A/N *runs into room, jumps onto bed, sprawls out and grabs laptop* Righto, sorry about the wait....School really gets me down, *cracks knuckles* On with the show....  
  
CHAPTER FIVE - Of Africa, Shamans and Gypsies  
  
They stood on a savannah of long waving grass that reached up to a manÕs knees, the skies were overcast and grey, humidity hung in the air like fog, a wind howled past them, heading for some unknown destination.  
  
ÒPaÕfoo, where are we?Ó Harry asked in wonder as he rotated, looking around at the seemingly endless plateau.  
  
Sirius didnÕt answer immediately, his head whipped from side to side, his black hair following itÕs movements like a trail of smoke. A frown creased his brow, ÒAfrica, I think.Ó  
  
He took hold of HarryÕs hand and began striding off, towards the direction that the wind was blowing.   
  
Harry frowned as well, sniffling a little, why were they in Afrykcia or whatever it was? What happened to Mali, why couldnÕt he stay and help Mali? His free hand clenched in annoyance, it was those sodding - He looked quickly up at Sirius, as if he could read HarryÕs thoughts and hear the ÔswearwordÕ, then continued, those sodding people who thought Padfoot was bad. He harrumphed, but followed Padfoot obediantly, then looked up curiously as he heard Padfoot begin muttering something under his breath.  
  
Sirius was very worried, he had meant to apparate to Africa, but to arrive at a certain place, which they hadnÕt. If they didnÕt find something that could get them off this plain quickly, they would be found. Yes, it would take a couple of hours for the Aurors to bring in the Apparition-tracing equipment, but him and Harry had to be long gone by then.  
  
Unfortunately, the savannah was providing no end, and no towns were on the horizon. He cast worried eyes around him, ÒThe savvanah leads to the sun, the sun leads to the caravan, the caravan leads to home and the home leads to safety.Ó He muttered to himself thoughtfully.  
  
A long time ago, an old african man had told him that, and that that was the way he would find the ancient shamans. He had found the old man in the backstreets of London, alone and dieing, and had helped him. In return the man had told him that the shamans would help him when he needed it, and the cryptic sentence on how to find the wild-magic users.  
  
The young Sirius had been cynical of it, but further research proved that the shamans had existed, but were believed to have died out when their magic escalated out of control.  
  
They crested a gently, rolling hill just in time to see the sun set in all of itÕs molten golden glory. And against it, silhouetted against the red glow, was a long cravan of brightly coloured wagons which would have been otherwise invisible.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
ÒWhy would he have kept Harry alive all of this time!? It is senseless for someone like him.Ó Remus burst out after Patrick had concluded his report to Albus.  
  
ÒBlack always was senseless.Ó Patrick murmered, ÒIn a brave, foolish, pig-headed way, and he is, *apparently*, insane.Ó   
  
Dumbledore looked up sharply, his blue eyes piercing the Head AurorÕs grey ones. ÒIt is ture.Ó The old man said slowly, ÒThat we have no proof he is insane, only assumptions.Ó  
  
Remus stopped silently fuming as he looked up in sudden fear, ÒNot insane?Ó He mumbled in shock, then striaghtened briefly. ÒWe have no chance of catching him.Ó Remus announced loudly, and slumped back in defeat.  
  
The top members of the Order of The Pheonix, also in the room, stared at Remus.  
  
The werewolf sighed, ÒSirius is brilliant at getting away, he was never caught, nobody could track him, he was invisible when he had to be, hell, he could even erase himself from the MarauderÕs Map.Ó  
  
Dumbledore looked thoughtful, ÒBut if that is so, why do I recall that Black had the highest rate of detentions in Hogwarts history?Ó  
  
Remus clenched his teeth, it hurt to relive things like this, but.... ÒHe always had to be the best, on the Express, James and Sirius made a pact to see who could reach the most detentions.Ó Remus paused, and raised his eyes to the ceiling, ÒHe....he got away with much more than you know about.Ó His eyes sought out the headmaster, ÒDid you not ever wonder where your woollen socks went?Ó  
  
The sparkle suddenly disappeared from DumbeldroeÕs blue eyes, ÒWe are wasting time here, has the apparition tracing instrument picked up a signal yet?Ó  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
ÒHunting Eagle, two travellers are approaching, they are outsiders.Ó  
  
The old, grizzled man turned, his powerful body clothed in bright garments and beads that clanked as he moved. The decorative patterns tattoed across his face made it seem inhuman and demonic.  
  
ÒWe shall meet with them. If we do not like what we see, we will cut off their ears.Ó The man grinned, baring his teeth. The younger, dark-haired man backed away, ÒI shall bring them to you when they arrive.Ó  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Remus stood uncetainly, shifting his feet and looking at the floor. He did not like this at all. A group of highly trained assassins, illegal, but the best, to be sure, stared down at him with cold eyes, their faces all identical masks of blankness, hiding whatever emotions they were feeling.  
  
ÒAhem, we have traced BlackÕs apparition to a savannah in Africa, however, no trace of him was found by our Aurors. You are hired to track down the fugitive, take him alive if you can, but - Ò The werewolf swallowed, ÒBut if need be, he may be...killed.Ó He cleared his throat again and continued, ÒBut the young child must not be harmed at all, and brought back to the designated area.Ó  
  
Dumbledore had thought it best that the assassins knew of Black, but not of Harry Potter. This group was known for their determination and ruthlessness. They always got the job done. But the moment they were paid, they were likely to turn on whoever had hired them. If they knew Harry Potter was the young child they would be taking was the Boy-Who-Lived...they were likel to re-kidnap him.  
  
Remus swallowed. ÒThese are the co-ordinates.Ó  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Sirius grasped HarryÕs hand tightly and apprehensively and followed the heavily muscled black african man towards the largest wagon, heading the slow, trundling trail of the now camped caravan. As if on cue, the sky darkened ominously, clouding its way into night.  
  
Harry did not seem that bothered by his guardianÕs anxiety. He was turning, craning his neck in every direction, his arm twisted where Sirius was grasping it.   
  
There was plenty to amuse the curious.  
  
The women walked, tall, stately elegant, carved urns blancing perfectly on their heads, beaded tapestries marking their dark skin. Their dark eyes glittered behind the veils they wore over their faces.   
  
The children ran, chasing each other with ornately jewelled and created daggers, glinting like quicksilver in the moonlight. The fires leaping up from every individual camp gave the whole setting an eerie aura, as if washed in crimson red. The men walked, never letting their eyes leave the outsiders, deadly spears held easily in hands and tattoos adorning their half-naked bodies.   
  
Snakes hissed from where they were bound to rails of wood, tails rattling ferociously, a pair of ocelots prowled around the campfire of one man, eyes glinting ferally. As Harry watched, the man twirled his staff towards the small children listening to his speech, and the man suddenly lifted a gnarled hand and blew out across the children a strangely sparkling powder.  
  
HarryÕs eyes strayed ot another campfire, two woman stood as one, back to back, hands extended in a serpentine line, moving to a rhythm played by a younger woman.  
  
At yet another, three men stood in a triangle, facing outwards, chanting in a strange language as they smeared their faces with a chalky substance.  
  
The whole place gave the sense of a magical place where warrior gods walked the land with their inhuman ladies and consorts.  
  
Harry shivered, both drawn to and afraid of the eerie clan.  
  
The man leading them stopped suddenly and turned around. His grin revealed a set of gleaming teeth, contrasting against the darkness of his skin.  
  
ÒNow we see.Ó He said cryptically in a rough, low voice, and spread his arms, bowing low as he left the two, a dark haired manand child, staring at the door.  
  
A strange symbol adorned the heavy surface a shrieking eagle wings stretched and talons raised as if about to strike spread cross the wood, a crescent moon and sun fitting perfectly together behind it. A strange, runic writing spread across the picture.  
  
The door opened. Gingerly, the two climbed the three steps, into the darkenss of the wagon.  
  
A light gleamed somewhere before them, and a candle was lit, revealing a huge bear of a man, dark, gnarled skin etched with red and black symbols. A leather bound hand stretched out from the darkness, beckoning them into the light.  
  
Slowly, Sirius stepped forwards, Harry trailing , hiding bhind the manÕs body, grasping his clothes in small fists.  
  
As they came into the candlelight, Sirius realised with a shock that the manÕs dark eyes were filled with white blotches and cataracts.  
  
-He was blind-  
  
The manÕs face revealed nothing as he gestured to two intricately carved chairs, Sirius sat, Harry mimicking him.  
  
The manÕs presence fillled the whole room, his aura powerful and dangerous for all his blindness and age, it made Siirus apprehensive and Harry afraid.  
  
ÒWhen the wind's from the east And the sun's from the west And the sand in the glass is right.... African nights 'Neath African moons A fool off his guard Could fall and fall hard.Ó   
  
The man intoned, his voice low and intoxicating, capturing the two strangersÕ attention immediately. He broke off and glared at them,   
  
ÒWhat do you here? You are not welcomed and not wanted. Leave or be left, unless you have reasonings.Ó The manÕs strange way of speech did not undermine his mysterious power, if anything, it made him seem more enigmatic.  
  
ÒWe comee seeking help.Ó Sirius replied, unusually formal, ÒI was sent here.Ó  
  
ÒBy whom?Ó   
  
ÒA man.Ó  
  
ÒWhich man.Ó  
  
Some of SiriusÕ cheek returned. ÒAn old man.Ó  
  
ÒLeave then.Ó  
  
ÒAn african shaman.Ó  
  
ÒDo tell.Ó  
  
ÒHe was dieing, I helped him, he told me you would help me when I needed it.Ó  
  
ÒProve it.Ó  
  
ÒMAHAN!Ó The man that had lead the strangers to the old man earlier burst in, breathing hard, ÒWizards, assassins, they are here, and wish to speak to you, something about a murderer and a young child.Ó He glared meaningfully at Sirius.  
  
The old man stood, seemingly easily, ÒStay, Gimalh, and find out this manÕs story, if we are to accept, inform me.Ó  
  
He walked to the door, then turned slightly, ÒBe quick, lives may be ruined or saved.Ó He whispered to the other african man. Then the head Shaman of the African Gypsies left.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Earlier.......  
  
The assassins apparated on a deserted savannah of waving grass, night already fallen and cloaking the african landscape in darkness.   
  
They spread out in a seven-pointed star, searching for signs of recent trails. The stumbling, bumbling Aurors had already been and crushed plenty of grass and hidden the trails, but the further they spread out, the less chance there would be of a corrupted trail.  
  
A piercing whistle split the night a few hours after they had begun their search. The whistle continued, and the other six assassins quickly covered the ground between them and their partner.  
  
Then together, they followed the trail like hounds, never stopping, they crested a gentle slope and the leader smiled a wolfish grin, the line of wagons were brightly lit and clearly visible.  
  
They had found him.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A/N *brushes off hands* Bah! I have writers block ALREADY!!! It took mne ages to belt this out, hopefully IÕve past my bout of that ......plague now. So, what did you think??? Was it okay???  
  
Beth - Wow! Thanks! I was really tring to keep him in his age-group, I was worried that he might seem a bit too intelligent or whatever for his age...But thanks! If he starts getting out of character, tell me straight away!  
  
Eric2 - Hmmm, what might that be??? *grins*  
  
Cinnamon3 - I know, but I donÕt know where to get a Beta-reader, this is my first fic you see, and IÕm still pretty new to fandom....  
  
Civenus - I was thinking that , but the letter willl definiately cause problems when the time comes.  
  
MerlinHalliwell - Yep, the hunt has begun....  
  
Thanks to everyone who reviews, they keep me alive, just a sentence is fantastic! Thankyou so much! 


	6. African Times

Enter Author (grovelling on stomach and holding pages of writing above her head) : Oh God! Forgive me! I am sooo sorry peoples, I bring these pages as an offering to beg for your forgiveness! I don't know why I ever left you! I don't even have a good excuse! wails Sorry! Sorry!  
  
African Times  
  
The assassin's leader was called Hunter amongst his team. No one knew where the name had come from, or what his real name was. That was the way with assassins, nobody new who anybody else really was or who they were.   
  
The assassins were not racist, biased, emotional, compassionate. They were not allowed to be. They were educated on almost every culture so as to be able to blend in with crowds in foreign countries. Despite the extensive training, not many knew the ways of the African Shaman.  
  
Hunter did.  
  
Which was why he was currently kneeling in front of a fire, with the Head Shaman of the tribe placed on the other side. Hunter's head was bowed, but his eyes never left the man before him. His hands were placed spread on the ground beside him, but the knives hidden up his sleeves were ready to spring free at any moment.  
  
After the appropriate amount of time, the assassin looked up. "Mahan." He began, using the formal title for an unintroduced man of status. "I am called Hunter." The giving of a name before another was a sign of respect. "I seek a man and a child who recently passed this way. Can you help me?"  
  
The Shaman looked up for the first time, face almost hidden by the dancing flames between them. "The Gypsies help no one."  
  
Hunter had been expecting this, in fact, he would have been extremely suprised if the the Shaman had not refused him. "Of course." Hunter said demurely, "But it would not be help, for we offer an exchange."  
  
The Shaman's face was carefully blank, "What can assassins have that Gypsies would ever value?" There was no derision or mocking in his voice, nor was there curiosity.  
  
"Safe passage across the sea."  
  
There was a long pause, the seas around Africa were wraught with dangers, the pirates preyed on ships leaving African soil in hopes of reaping the magical riches found in the country. The Gypsies would, every so often, travel by ship to another part of their land; there were often deaths on such voyages.  
  
"What exactly is it that you wish?" The Shaman's voice was low and questioning, his blind eyes fixed on the flickering flames.  
  
Hunter smiled inwardly to himself, "A man and a child. The man murdered the child's parents and kidnapped the child."  
  
The Shaman was silent for a long time, as if turning this information over in his mind.  
  
"And what do assassins care about a murderer and kidnapper for?"  
  
The irony was not lost on Hunter, he allowed a small smirk to lift the corners of his mouth, "If the money is good enough, then we may care."  
  
"No, not you. You do not care for much, do you, assassin?"  
  
"No, not much." Hunter agreed. If the Shaman wanted to milk him for information, he'd play along, for as long as it suited him for.  
  
"Who are you doing your hunting for?"  
  
"Not anyone who cares to be named." Hunter teasingly dropped that word into the sentence. -Care.-  
  
"What would you say, Hunter, if I said that I have not seen your murderer or child?"  
  
"I would say that you are trying to trick me, for you are clearly blind." Hunter retorted carefully.  
  
A small smile graced the Shaman's lips, "And if I said I have not heard, felt or knew of this murderer?"  
  
Hunter sensed the truth of the man's words.  
  
"Then I would say that I will take my leave and meet you on the southern coast for my end of the bargain."  
  
The Shaman nodded.  
  
Hunter bowed slightly, then backed away.  
  
The Shaman was silent for a long time after the assassins left.  
  
The young man had contacted him through the fire and said that the man was innocent about halfway through the conversation. He had not lied, for he had not met a murderer if this was true.  
  
Finally, the Shaman lifted himself to his feet, and carried himself back to his wagon.  
  
ONE YEAR LATER  
  
Sirius looked up sharply as he heard a child's yell, he had been sitting at a fire with Kiima, a woman about his own age, learning how to play a complicated tattoo on the drum. He smiled and relaxed as he watched Harry run past, pursued by the two six-year old twins he had made fast friends with.  
  
Sirius had never been able to completely let down his guard throughout the year they had been with the gypsies, half-expecting the assassins to come back when he least expected it, but for now he relaxed into a smile, watching Harry mock-fighting with the boy twin, Hukai.  
  
He turned back to Kiima, and she flashed him a laughing smile. Funny how she never had to use words to convey her thoughts, Sirius noted, as he smiled charmingly back, all that was needed was one of her looks. She was a passionate lover, and had accepted him as he was, with his insecurities, mourning and all.  
  
He turned back to his drum; music and dance were a huge part of the Gypsy's culture, they grew up surrounded by rhythm and free movement, and so almost every night at camp was filled with the beats of drums and feet on the hard earthen ground.  
  
Harry tripped and fell on top of Hukai, laughing breathlessly as he began to tickle his friend mercilessly. Shimah, Hukai's twin, screamed. "PILE-UP!" A phrase she had learnt off Harry, and jumped on top of the two boys.  
  
"Aarggh!" Harry grunted.  
  
"Geroff!" Hukai choked, fingers scrabbling at his throat.  
  
Harry grinned and flipped Shimah off him, a trick he had learnt from Yeriah, the fighting instructor - the gypsies trained almost everyday - and crawled backwards off his friend.  
  
"Oh, you wuss!" He said in the gypsy's native language, swiping a hand across his brow.  
  
"Your accent is getting better, you know." Shimah said thoughtfully.  
  
Harry grasped the words 'accent', 'better' and 'know' and grinned at Shimah, grasping her meaning.  
  
"Thanks, I -" He was cut off as Hukai tackled him from behind, yelling inarticulately.  
  
TWO YEARS LATER  
  
Kick. Spin. Shift. Knee. Kick. Block. Step. Punch. Shift. Balance. Slice. Sidestep. Kick. Punch. Punch. Roundhouse. Flip. Kick. Slide. Duck. Punch. Pause.  
  
Harry finished the long dance of attack and defense patterns and flipped his long dark hair out of his eyes and looked hopefully up at his instructor, green eyes blazing with adrenaline.  
  
Yeriah smiled slightly, his short, muscular body planted in a wide stance with his feet on his hips. "That was a difficult sequence, young Harry, you ... did well."  
  
Harry's young, seven-year old face practically glowed, "Really?" He asked breathlessly.  
  
Yeriah suppressed a smile and nodded solemnly, "Really." He said indifferently.  
  
Harry whooped and punched the air with his fist, running at Sirius, who had been watching Harry's skill test carefully. The man's face broke into a grin that rivalled Harry's and he lifted the lean boy into his arms, twirling him around in the air before hugging him tightly.  
  
"Nothing to be surprised about, really." He said gruffly, holding his Godson with pride, "You have been training for three years twice as much as the other kids to catch up. I was about to go to the law about child labour laws."  
  
"Pa'foo." Harry laughed, struggling out of his arms, "You wouldn't do that! Your face is much too handsome for them to forget it so quickly!"  
  
Sirius was torn between exasperation and amusement. Harry had never learnt, or just plain refused to say Sirius' nickname correctly, and was learning how to flatter his superiors far too young for Sirius' comfort.  
  
"So I guess this means you can start learning how to fight with daggers now, eh?" Sirius asked rhetorically, eyeing Harry carefully.  
  
The boy was heavily tanned, and wearing a loincloth, something Sirius had been rather skeptical about at first, but realized that all the other children wore them during training, and often wore them during hot days, running between the trail of moving wagons, darting into living-wagons and the working-wagons as if they owned the place.  
  
"Harry! HARRY!" Harry flashed Sirius a quick grin before he turned and ran towards the other children who had gathered around the children's free wagon, waiting for Harry's result, too afraid of distracting Harry to watch him from the boundaries of the temporarily set field.  
  
Harry grinned and ran off, long, messy hair flying behind him, almost in dreadlocks.  
  
"He really is something" Murmured Kiima, coming to stand beside Sirius, leaning against him, the man felt his pulse quicken slightly.  
  
True to tradition, Kiima had never worn a cover over her upper half, only beaded tattoos adorned her skin and she wore a intricately woven skirt which fell to her ankles, for it was a cool day. Her long dark hair had small rat-tail plaits through her hair, with feathers and colored stones woven through it.  
  
Sirius slid an arm around her bare shoulders, pulling her closer, "Yes." He agreed softly, "So young, so alive, so much like Ja - " He broke off, unable to continue.  
  
"Shhh." Kiima whispered, placing a long, dark finger across his lips. "Harry is here, and so are you. Dwell not in the past, but in the now." She smiled softly at him, her black-brown eyes meeting his dark blue ones.   
  
A cold wind ruffled his black hair, and lifted hers off her neck. She took his hand and lead him to her wagon, lighting a candle as she entered. She pushed him gently onto the bed and lay down beside him, head nestled into his shoulder.  
  
He was did not move for a long time, and Kiima waited, eyes closed as she breathed in his scent.  
  
Finally he raised himself onto his elbow, looking down at her. She had never borne a child for all the time she had been with him, and she hurt sorely at this, and late at nights he would hear her crying softly, not wanting to wake him. Other nights, when she thought he was asleep, she would slip out of his warm embrace and leave the wagon.  
  
He suspected there was more to her sadness than her inability to bear children, but let her have her space, her privacy was precious to her and he knew almost nothing of her past.  
  
The wind outside picked up and howled around the wagon, making it rock oh-so-slightly. Involuntarily, Kiima shivered and snuggled closer to Sirius.  
  
He ran a hand through her hair and kissed her lightly on the mouth. Her lips curved up into a smile as she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a passionate embrace.  
  
He would not stay forever, and they both knew that.   
  
They would not let it get in the way of their lovemaking.  
  
ONE YEAR LATER  
  
Harry's skin prickled and he sat up, rubbing his eyes. On the night that he had past his first skills test, the head Shaman had repaired his eyesight as a reward. His emerald eyes glittered strangely in the starlight as he frowned, trying to figure out what had awoken him.  
  
There!  
  
A slight sound, the scuffle of earth against a shoe, a muffled curse. The dark-haired boy's eyes widened, no Gypsy swore in that way. As silently as he could, he crawled over to the twin's beds, which were, rather thoughtlessly, placed side by side, allowing free bickering to occur during more normal nights.  
  
He quietly woke them up, and mouthed a single word.  
  
Intruders.  
  
He motioned for the suddenly wary children to follow him and he carefully eased open the low wooden door a crack, peering about in the night. The moon was new and there was barely any light at all. Nevertheless, Harry saw a two figures emerging from between the two wagons in front and slightly to the left of their own.  
  
Sirius had told him in, perhaps parnoia, what to look for in an assassin. A stealthy walk, a certain stance, a just-so look in their faces of deadly indifference.  
  
If Harry was right, he was looking straight at two assassins, possibly the ones who had been hunting him and Sirius years before. He was still young, but not so young anymore to think of the hunt as a game that would eventually end in laughter. He knew that if these men found Padfoot, bad things would happen.  
  
He slid silently out of the door, stepping down into the shadow cast by the wagon. Hukai and Shimah followed him just as quietly. He crept around the corner, Padfoot would probably be in Kiima's wagon. He wrinkled his nose in disgust, in bed and - yeuch! He shook his head, dispelling those thoughts, and resumed his earlier thought. Kiima's wagon was two ahead of the children's one.  
  
Kiima looked sadly out the window of her wagon, into the darkened night sky, then back at the man lying beside her, his hair spread out around his head like a piece of the velvet of the sky itself torn out. She traced a finger down his cheek, feeling the stubble that had begun to grow grazing her finger.  
  
She looked up suddenly as she heard the door to her wagon open stealthily. She sat up, sheet falling down to her bare waist and reached out for the pair of daggers she kept on her bedside table. She didn't know why, it was just a feeling.  
  
The door creaked open wider and Sirius stirred, just as three figures walked silently into the wagon.  
  
(A/N I was going to leave it here, but I thought I needed to write a heap more to earn forgiveness, so ... )  
  
"Harry?" She gasped, recognizing the boy's face and beginning to lower her weapons, "Mother Of Earth and Sea! I almost died of shock."  
  
The young boy with laughing eyes looked unusually nervous, "You might want to keep those handy." He said, pointing with one hand.  
  
She took a few moments to realize what he was talking about.  
  
Her daggers.  
  
"Harry ... What?" She asked faintly, grasping the hilts of her daggers tightly.  
  
"Assassins." Hukai said grimly.  
  
Kiima's eyes widened, just as Sirius's opened.  
  
"What's going on ... Harry?!"  
  
"Assassins." Kiima whispered urgently.  
  
The blood drained from Sirius's face. "Kiima." He paused, "We must leave, I - "  
  
She broke him off as she often did, by laying a finger across his lips. "Then go." She whispered, softly kissing him, then drawing back.  
  
Her lover's eyes were full of confused emotions, fear, apprehension, loss, hate ... Heavens, was that - ?  
  
Her thought broke off as Sirius roughly pulled her closer to him, his lips meeting hers in a furious, passionate kiss. When he finally broke away, she had to hold onto him to keep herself form falling.  
  
"Sirius?" She breathed.  
  
"I'll miss you ... love." He whispered brusquely, and fled the wagon, Harry in tow, who had just brought his hand down form covering his eyes.  
  
-How did they find us? Why did they come back? How will we get away? What if they catch us? What will happen to Harry? Oh Gods, Kiima...-  
  
With a rough shake of his head, Sirius realized tears were falling freely down his cheeks. He cursed himself and looked back at Harry, whose hand was tightly clutched in his as he maneuvered them away from the caravan. He couldn't cry in front Harry, not now ... Harry was crying.  
  
Harry never cried. Not since ... -Oh gods-. Not since Mali.  
  
Not again.  
  
Harry'd lost his parents that he'd never known.  
  
Lost his best friend, abandoning her as she lay bleeding.  
  
Left his new culture to the mercy of assassins looking for them.  
  
And the tears flowed freely from Sirius's eyes as he ran, the dark night enveloping the pair as they ran through their sorrow.  
  
Finally, they were far enough away to escape the apparition tracing equipment. With a last fearful look in the direction from which they had come, Sirius disapparated.  
  
The ten assassins stalked the barrier set before them, circling the magical shield like cats prowling, hunting for prey. Hunter stood in front of the Head Shaman, who had enclosed his people in a magical wall drawn from the earth. The Shaman stood with his feet in a wide stance, arms spread wide with his fingers slightly crooked, eyes closed.  
  
The children huddled in the middle of the circle, with the adults, women and men, standing guard around them, bristling with sharp daggers and spears.  
  
Hunter's amber eyes snapped angrily, "Four years." He stated clearly, voice ringing out across the group and out across the open savannah.  
  
"Four years." He repeated. "We have hunted for this man and child, never once faltering, never once giving up. And now." His voice softened, "Now I find that they have been here, here, where our search first began."  
  
Years of false leads and cold trails, of lies and deceit. Four years of his life.  
  
Four years of his men's lives.  
  
Some of them had been planning to retire after that job, the pay-off was amazing. But four years of their lives. Four years.  
  
Wasted.  
  
He had decided to research further on Shamans. Discovered that they could communicate through fire. Realized that the entire conversation he'd had with the Shaman, the old man had been focusing on the fire. It was nothing more than a hunch. But a hunch was the best lead they'd had.  
  
"Where have they gone?" He demanded.  
  
"I know not." The Shaman said, never moving, his voice low and controlled. "But if you wish to live, you will leave."  
  
The wind howled through the long grass ominously, as if timed to do so.  
  
"Tell me!"  
  
"Leave!"  
  
"Never!"  
  
"Leave!"  
  
The Shaman's voice thundered out on the last word, and out of nowhere, rain clouds gathered, lightening flashing to the ground dangerously close to the black cloaked killers.  
  
"I'll be back." Hunter whispered, more to himself than anyone else.  
  
-I swear it.-  
  
Ducks tomatoes still being thrown at her by angry readers who can't believe she stopped writing.   
  
How was that? I can't apologize enough for leaving this story, sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry!  
  
Please review, I know I don't deserve it, but please, just a word or two?   
  
Flinches apprehensively 


	7. New Places, new Discoveries

CHAPTER SEVEN  
  
New Places, new Discoveries.  
  
If a person had been watching, if a person had been there, they might have seen a man and boy appearing on the cold scottish coast. They would have seen the man draw the young boy into his arms and kneel down on the cliff edge. And when the strong wind blew both their hair out behind them, if a person had been looking hard enough, they would have noticed that the boy was the missing saviour of the wizarding world.  
  
But no living thing was watching, and no living thing was there, and so the man and the child cried alone.  
  
The dark, overcast day was threatening to pour down a storm on them, Sirius noticed, as he sat with his legs crossed and a sleeping Harry cradled in his lap.  
  
He glanced down at the ocean as it pounded against the sharp cliff face, then back up at the clouded sky and grimaced.  
  
They had nowhere to go.  
  
It seemed hopeless. Each time he had escaped, each time he had found a new, exotic home for him and his godson and each time he had been found, and forced to leave.  
  
Nervously, Sirius threw a look over his shoulder. Hogwarts was miles away and still he fancied he could feel it hovering just behind him, ready to throw everything it had between Sirius and Harry.  
  
Unconsciously, Sirius's arms tightened around Harry, -nothing- would come between them.  
  
The man paused in his thoughts. -Why?- Wouldn't Harry be happier in a magical world where he was honored and stable rather than hunted for reasons beyond his control. Wasn't Sirius being selfish in keeping Harry. Perhaps he should just drop Harry off at Hogwarts and -  
  
Roughly he shook his head. He needed more time to think and they had lingered for too many hours already. What he needed was a map.  
  
A slight quirk at the corner of his mouth appeared as he had an idea and wakened Harry.  
  
"No Mr Donaldson, of course, yes, yes, I see your point, perhaps destination oh-one-two-zero would be advisable to him. I see, okay, yes, yes, no sir, I'll get right on it." The young receptionist lowered the phone with a clank and turned back to his computer and began frantically tapping away at the keyboard.  
  
A small bell rang, signalling the entry of a man. The man was blonde, blue-eyed and roughly handsome. The expensive suit and golden rings on his fingers gave testament to his wealth as he haughtily eyed the travel agency.  
  
Diagon Alley, no longer a centre of enjoyment and shopping, but a place to be endured, a frightful, yet necessary place.  
  
Witches and wizards bustled around to the shops, huddled into groups and whispering frantically to each other as they went about their business as quickly as possible.  
  
A stray newspaper fluttered down the street to be picked up by an old man, so tall he had to stoop to his knees to pick it up. His head was shaven and and long, white bristling beard graced his craggy face.  
  
His light blue eyes scanned the page quickly, and suddenly he thrust the paper into the air and laughed, and laughed. The small crowd stopped and stared at him as if he was crazy. As some of the people recognized him, they realized that he probably -was- crazy.  
  
The newspaper swooped and curved, finally landing face-up in a puddle of rain water.  
  
SIRIUS BLACK STRIKES AGAIN  
  
Sirius Black, serial murderer, public enemy number one, killer of The Boy Who Lived and infamous madman, has attacked the wizarding city of Magnes Harbor, America.   
  
Several timed spells, highly illegal, were placed at strategic points around the port and in the foundations of the city. They went off at exactly 11.05am, the same time as the attack which killed 13 muggles and Peter Pettigrew. In the rubble and mayhem of the aftermath of the destruction spells, Black was spotted standing on top of a still standing office, laughing maniacally. Several wizards made to attack him, whereupon Black fired off several offensive spells and disappeared.  
  
Death toll currently at 61, with an estimated 80 people still missing. Emergency Teams have been working around the clock to clear the area. America has retaliated by calling for a more efficient and effective search for Sirius Black. Negotiations between the governments are still running. It seems that many of the as-yet uninvolved countries are using the incident as a bartering tool. They are offering their services and Intelligence to aid the hunt as long as they are repaid in terms of land, laws or wealth.  
  
By Nathalie Hammond, special reporter, Daily Prophet.  
  
At the same time, the rich man in the travel Agency was tucking an acquired map into his jacket and assuring the nervous receptionist he would be in contact before sweeping out of the shop. Once out, the man ducked into a side alley where he found a small, black haired boy slumped on the ground, throwing rocks at the opposite wall.  
  
Sirius stripped himself and his clothing of the glamour and opened the map, spreading it before them. Harry's eyes lit up as he scrabbled over to the new 'toy'.   
  
"So Harry," Sirius said happily, "where do you want to go?" He spread an arm across the expanse of the rather large map of the world.  
  
Harry practically leapt right onto it. "What's that countr-thingy like?" He asked, pointing at, something that looked to him like a big clump of shapes stuck together.  
  
"That country is called Brazil." Sirius paused and wracked his brain, "Umm... I think that country is very colorful, and bright, and music and dancing are everywhere."  
  
"Just like the Gypsies." Harry said sadly, head bowed.  
  
"Yes Harry, but not exactly like - I read somewhere that they have grand parades and festivals, and that their music is different from anything you'd have ever heard before."  
  
"Really?" Harry's eyes sparked as he looked up at Sirius hopefully.   
  
If there was one thing Harry couldn't resist, it was music, throw in a bit of adventure in the form of a completely different form of music and - "Would you like to go to Brazil?"  
  
Harry nodded emphatically.  
  
"Right then, to Brazil we go."  
  
"I won't take it! The British Ministry have been searching for this man for years, and have come across him twice, only to let him slip through their fingers. The incompetence is utterly ridiculous and is becoming dangerous. Black seems to have gathered a following and is beginning attacks. Before you know it, we'll be calling this man He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-The-Second! The man -must- be apprehended , he is a danger to the entire world if left to his own devices. We need more men!"  
  
"And women." Albus Dumbledore corrected the American President mildly.  
  
The lean, silver haired man nodded sharply, "And women." He agreed.  
  
The President Samuel Young had held his office for the past twenty years and was experienced. As he eyed the gathered leaders of the magical world and their assistants, he caught each and every eye, glaring until they looked away.  
  
The French Queen rustled gracefully to her feet, lavender gown falling around her in soft folds. Samuel returned respectfully to his seat. "I zee your reezoning, Zamuel, but why should wee 'elp 'oo?" Her voice was soft and accented, but the power held in her light brown eyes was unmistakable, "Black 'as not threatened our countries and I zee no evidenze zat 'e will, I zink, Prezzidant Zamuel, zat ;oo are over-reacting."  
  
There were several nods of agreement.  
  
The President rose passionately to his feet again, "And would you wait until he has grown as powerful as You-Know-Who? Wait till -he- starts a war that could tear our world apart, wait until the ruling bodies are at their knees begging to be spared by a madman? No, not I."  
  
The debate wore long into the night, with yelling, cool reasonings and angry feuds.  
  
All the while Albus Dumbledore, invited as the leader of the Order Of The Phoenix, sat quietly, fingers steepled on the table, as the verbal battles flew around him. His blue eyes lightly rested on one speaker after another, as a huge inner debate took place inside of him.  
  
The Australian Leader, a tall, dark, aboriginal lady with braids through her hair was standing. It was seven hours after the conference had started, and her dark eyes were flashing dangerously at the Chinese Dynasty ruler, "The world cannot afford a war at this point, with huge rallies and protests in many of our country's streets to join our world with the muggles, a war could break the very foundations of our carefully built peace. Several years ago, that peace was shattered briefly by a man who sought world domination, and we are still recovering, imagine what a full out war would do to us if this Black is already gathering followers. However, we have no proof that he is, he might just be working alone, despite the huge amount of work it would have taken for one person to organise the Magnes Harbour attack. No, it is too inconclusive. Australia will wait."  
  
The Chinese Ruler was just rising to his feet when Albus Dumbledore cut him off, standing faster than the other man, and raising his arms out wide. "May I speak?" Although the words were said softly, they carried out across the room and every person's eyes turned to look upon the only man He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named feared.  
  
"Peoples of the world, I ask your help in one thing which may unite you all in purpose."  
  
Several skeptical looks were directed at the old man, but he continued on regardless.  
  
"There is great evidence that one Harry Potter is still alive and in the possession of Sirius Black."  
  
There was a silence that stretched for long moments.  
  
Then, complete uproar.  
  



	8. The Beginning

CHAPTER EIGHT - The Beginning.  
  
THE BOY-WHO-LIVED ALIVE!  
  
HARRY POTTER KIDNAPPED BY SIRIUS BLACK!  
  
SERIAL MURDERER KIDNAPPED BOY-WHO-LIVED!  
  
HARRY POTTER ALIVE AND WITH SIRIUS BLACK!  
  
The headlines screamed all across the world; no country did not know of the revelation, all the countries had reared their heads in a furious search for the murderer and the saviour.   
  
Fear was everywhere, in the air, in the earth, in the faces of the people as they scurried about, searching faces fleetingly and hurrying away.  
  
Sirius Black had gathered a dangerous following, he had blown up Magnes Harbour, one of the biggest trading ports in the world, he had Harry Potter, the one child who could possibly save the world from yet another madman.  
  
A boy said to be possessed of a power so great as to be able to defeat the most powerful wizard of the century - had been, perhaps, brain-washed by that self-same man's second in command.  
  
No, the world was no longer a safe place.  
  
In the space of less than two weeks, the world was wrought with the same amount of fear that there had been during the rise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named  
  
And one more event was set to rock the world.  
  
It was beautiful to those gathered on a lonely shore, their faces set and dangerous.  
  
A few miles away was the famed and feared wizarding prison of Azkaban.  
  
-------------------------  
  
Looking out the barred window was one woman and one man, faces haggard and blank, yet almost hopeful.  
  
Time had come.  
  
It was to be so much more enjoyable than the last time.  
  
---------------------- Dear Diary,  
  
Brazil. South America.  
  
Perhaps the safest place for the hunted man and child. Despite the fear that had taken over the rest of the world, Brazil's people have determinedly kept on dancing and making music in preparation of their famed annual carnivale.  
  
Of course, they still keep a wary eye out, and the magical people never go out without their wands. The muggles are beginning to sense the fear of the world, soon, there would be no secrets between the two worlds, perhaps that was the aim of the ones who attacked Magnes Harbour.  
  
Many still hopelessly believe that this will all blow over like the last time, that some unknown saviour shall appear from nowhere and make all the bad things go away. Not so this time.  
  
I feel it in my old bones, the world is on the brink of a cliff, teetering on the edge of something so chaotic, so different from any way of life leading back to prehistoric times that no-one, not even my dear brother, will, be prepared for it.  
  
No, not even I. I have my theories, my beliefs, my suspicions, but if the time comes, I will be as lost as anyone. Perhaps it is for the better, perhaps the world does need a cataclysmic change, but to have such a change wrought by such people?   
  
No good will come of it.  
  
--  
  
The bald, bearded and blue-eyed man who had so shocked those in Diagon Alley earlier carefully tilted his quill upwards so as not to smear the page.   
  
He shrewdly scanned it before covering it with a sheet of drying paper and turning to face his window.  
  
No, no good at all.  
  
------------------  
  
Out on the lone, cold, roiling ocean, a huge, sleek, dark boat cut though the rolling waves, proud nose lifting into the air on every roll, before slamming back into the cold merciless ocean. Inside the over-sized speed boat sat forty of the world's most dangerous men and women. Sitting in the front of the boat were the fifteen men and women who had just performed the largest and most world-changing breakout in the history of the world.  
  
Trailing behind the fast boat was barge, and on that barge a great multitude of ominous, forbidding cloaked figures drifted about in the mist.  
  
Azkaban had been broken.  
  
--------------------  
  
The Brazilian man's head turned to look as he heard approaching footsteps, the people who had been playing according to his instructions carried on on their own, today's practise was only a rehearsal and everyone knew their parts.  
  
The clamour and noise might have made any onlooker wonder how the man had heard such a quiet noise as footsteps, but the man had been teaching music like this for so long that if it wasn't playing in the background he might have been hard-pressed to actually notice anything.  
  
It was a man and a young boy. Both were dark haired and the man had his hand protectively on the boy;s shoulder as they approached.  
  
The man smiled when he noticed that the Brazilian man was looking, and though the smile seemed a little sad and worn, the music director smiled warmly back.  
  
"Hello, friend, what can I do for you?" The Brazilian man said happily, placing his hands on his wide hips, the long stick he had been using as a conductor dangling between his index and middle fingers.  
  
Sirius's smile widened to a grin, the language spell he had cast on himself worked perfectly, he could understand what the man was saying perfectly, now for the second test.  
  
"Hello, my name is Jonathon Yuller, I was wondering if my godson could join your classes?" Ah, perfect, he could speak the language too.  
  
The Brazilian man's smile never wavered, though his eyes were warily watching the stranger, one could never be too careful nowadays. "But of course! Does he have any experience?"  
  
"A bit, he plays the drums and can hold a fair beat. But he only speaks english, I've brought him over here for an extended holiday, you see."  
  
"Ah, of course, by the way, my name is Michealio, call me Mike." The man had been wondering why the young boy had been looking up at them so bemusedly, and so he switched to english. "Hello, little one, I understand you wish to join my music classes?"  
  
The boy nodded emphatically.  
  
"What is your name?"  
  
"Harry, sir."  
  
A FEW WEEKS LATER   
  
"Do you remember what I taught you about the basics of magic, Harry?"  
  
They were sitting in the small, modest apartment Sirius had rented for them, in two second-hand arm chairs in front of an empty fireplace. Harry was sitting in a lotus position, the over-stuffed chair engulfing his lean frame. He nodded solemnly, green eyes lit with curiousity.  
  
"That we have magic inside of us, but that magic needs to have a magical element to focus through to understand our needs and wishes and so to do what we want." He said, the words coming out with the exact same nuances and tones Sirius always used when he told Harry.  
  
"And remember how I promised I would get you a wand and teach you real magic when you were old enough?"  
  
"Ya-huh."  
  
"And you know all the bad things that have been happening and they think that it's me doing them?"  
  
"Ya." This time a more serious voice.  
  
"Well, that means I can't get you a wand yet because every wand store - and pretty much every other store - is looking out for a man and a young child like you and me."  
  
"But can't you just put a glamour on like you did at that other shop?" Harry's eyes were huge and limpid, why couldn't he get a wand? This was the day he had dreamed about in his sleep, the day when he could try and be like Padfoot and do cool magicks and see what the big deal was all about.  
  
"No." Sirius's voice was tired, "Almost every shop nowadays has an anti-glamour charm on the door, especially since Azkaban was broken out of. With so many real dangerous criminals at large, no-one can take chances. We're just lucky that Brazil isn't as fussed about it as all the other places."  
  
"Oh."  
  
The sad, almost devastated tone of Harry's voice broke Sirius's heart. Harry had always wanted a wand, ever since he found out about magic he hadn't been able to contain his excitement about exploring this amazing 'toy' that Sirius seemed to be able to do so many things with.  
  
"But I can teach a different kind of magic."  
  
"What?" The change in Harry was amazing, his slumped figure straightened as he flipped his long, dark hair out of his eyes and unfolded his legs, swinging them over the edge of the chair. "What kind?!"  
  
"Special magic." Sirius grinned at Harry's puzzled gaze.  
  
"You know how you make things happen accidentally happen when you're angry, sad, happy and so on."  
  
"Yeah, but I can't make that stuff do what I want it to do." Harry looked balefully at Sirius, if that was the kind of magic Sirius had been getting his hopes up about...  
  
"I can teach you how to control that."  
  
Harry was still sceptical, he pulled at an almost-dreadlocked piece of hair as he narrowed his eyes at Sirius. "You sure 'bout that?"  
  
"Well, how about we start now?"  
  
"Pa'foo' I have dance class soon."  
  
"Don't matter, I'll just start teaching you how to concentrate."  
  
Harry's face contorted into a mask of horror at the dreaded 'C' word. "Concentrate?" He whispered in a terrified voice.  
  
"Focus, meditate, breathe, relax, understand." Sirius hurriedly filled the silence with many other words.  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow, a skill he had worked very hard at, and pursed his lips.  
  
"Okay then." He sighed heavily, as if about to make a huge sacrifice, "I guess magic in return for concentration might be worth it."  
  
"Right, now, remember that special feeling you get just when something magical happens when you're feeling strongly?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"I want you to sit comfortably and think of that feeling, and nothing else."  
  
Harry loved that special feeling; he had no trouble at all remembering it at all, it was like the thrill of thunder rumbling through your being, of fire dancing in your fingertips, of a wave of something that built inside of him until it suddenly released.  
  
He smiled as he closed his eyes, thinking of that feeling.  
  
Sirius watched as Harry sat on the ground for minutes on end. In truth, he was shocked, he had never seen Harry this ... quiet before. His godson's face, usually so animated, had fallen still, the last traces of baby-fat giving his cheeks a full roundness. A smile lurked around the boy's mouth, darting around furtively from corner to corner and occasionally lifting his mouth.  
  
Sirius checked his watch, and realized with a shock that twenty minutes had passed. "Harry! You'll be late!"  
  
Harry's green eyes snapped open as he clambered to his feet hurriedly, "Well hurry up then!" He exclaimed, making for the door, but threw a reproachful glare over his shoulder, "I expect more time next time." He said primly, with the self-assuredness of a young child, and walked out the door.  
  
-------------------------------  
  
Bellatrix Lestrange sat to the left of the head of the table, a few seats down from it. eyes no longer heavily hooded and sallow from hunger and lack of sleep, but darkly alive, brimming with newly-re-found power. She cast appreciative eyes down the heavily ornate table, and the people seated at it. Each had an aura of power, that was for sure, and many, if not all, wore expensive and magnificent body adornments, the finest silks of Arabia, the softest, most svelte satin, gold and silver that was brimming with finely shaped rare stones.  
  
These were the people who had once made up the highest inner circle of the Dark Lord.  
  
At the head of the table, in all his glory, sat Lucius Malfoy.   
  
"Welcome, friends, and I thank you for your faith to me in accepting my invitation tonight."  
  
There was polite, scattered applause.  
  
The tall man smirked, "I believe you have all heard of the attack on Magnes Harbor and the break-out of Azkaban Prison by now?"  
  
Louder, slightly more enthusiastic applause.  
  
"Thank you. You are here tonight to either join me and restore yourselves to your old power and riches, or leave, and fade into existing again. I believe that we can build what the Dark Lord built once again, and this time succeed!"  
  
His assuredness could only come from a plan, everyone seated knew, and everyone knew that he would not disclose this plan to them until he was sure of their loyalty.  
  
"Anyone who wishes to leave may do so now."  
  
There was a long pause, in which Bellatrix tossed her short hair (which she had cropped after seeing it's state from Azkaban) imperiously and tapped her long, sharp nails impatiently across the heavy wood of the table.  
  
No-one left.  
  
Gods, she couldn't stand that self-satisfied smile of his.  
  
"Will you all kindly join me in the Drawing Room. Bellatrix, Narcissa, perhaps you should stay here and talk, for old time's sake."  
  
Bellatrix fumed inwardly, so women weren't good enough to hear the plans now? The Dark Lord had always favoured her, and playing second fiddle to the rest of the men was unbearable to her.  
  
But she smiled demurely and looked down, "Of course, you are too kind Lucius."  
  
He swept from the room, and Bellatrix turned to her sister in the now-empty room.  
  
She looked icily back, long blonde hair glittering in the fire-light.  
  
"Cissa."  
  
"Bella."  
  
-  
  
Long into the night did the men talk. And long into the night did the tinkling laugh of a beautiful, blonde-haired ice queen and the low soft purring chuckle of a darkly seductive witch echo through the grand dining room.  
  
-----  
  
A/N Gods, I thought I'd never get that done. Sorry for the long wait. Did you guys like it? looks up I'm not sure I did. nn  
  
Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, I need them, truely, even just one or two words seriously makes my whole day seem better and helps to vanquish writers block. Thank you again.  
  
btw, I am going to write a list of everyone who has reviewed and return with my own comments one of these days, but at the moment I just don't have enough time, sorry all. 


	9. Plots and Festivals

CHAPTER NINE  
  
"Albus! Albus!"  
  
The old man looked up as the dark-haired man ran into his office, face face flushed.  
  
"What is it Severus?" He asked, concern evident in his voice; it was not usual for the potions master to be so flustered.  
  
Severus Snape, potions professor at Hogwarts, bane of his students, sat abruptly, "Albus." He breathed, "Lucius Malfoy, he has begun recruiting the ancient dark families to his cause."  
  
Albus Dumbledore turned his head slightly to look at Severus, "I assume he invited you?"  
  
Severus nodded a sharp affirmative.  
  
"Was there any hint of Sirius Black?"  
  
Severus looked thoughtful, "No, but from the parts of the plan Malfoy revealed to us contained elements that were strangely alike to many of Black's strategies."  
  
"What was this plan?"  
  
Severus drew in a deep breath.  
  
"A plan to bring back the Dark Lord."  
  
---------------------------------  
  
"Times! Get your newspaper 'ere! Newspaper! Get yer newspapers!"  
  
The young newpaper boy, face cast in shadow by the worn peaked cap on his head, brandished a newspaper from his trolley like a mace.  
  
A young, rich couple passed by, walking arm in arm. The man listenedtosomething whispered into his ear by the woman and smiled, nodding. He held out a hand to halt the paper boy and pressed a crisp note into his hand. The boy looked down at it, eyes widening, and thrust the newspaper respectfully into the brown-haired man's hand and hurried away before the man changed his mind about the amount of money he had given the boy.  
  
The strawberry haired woman laughed lightly at the boy's face as he walked away, and turned back to the man, pulling her fur-lined cloak closer to her slender body.  
  
Her smile dropped when she saw the man's face becoming serious.  
  
"What is it?" She asked, drawing closer to him.  
  
He looked up, searching her face fleetingly, "Here." He said, passing the paper to her.  
  
--  
  
MASS MURDERER ON THE LOOSE! P  
  
Sirius Black, known murderer and suspected terrorist, has escaped from a top secret maximum security prison. Considered armed and dangerous, his current whereabouts are unknown. If seen, the public is strictly advised not to call attention to themselves and call the hotline number listed below as soon a it is safe to. This man is on the country's Most Wanted list, and may be insane. He has recruited a number of people and authorities suspect that he is planning to wage a full-scale attack in the future.  
  
Sirius Black was first convicted seven years ago when he murdered his best friend's family and kidnapped their one-year-old son. This son is still missing, but is known to be alive. He would be eight years old with dark hair and bright green eyes.   
  
Anyone with information may ring the hotline, rewards are offered for any leads and complete anonymity is assured.  
  
--  
  
The woman looked up at the man fearfully, "Black?" She whispered.  
  
---------------------------------  
  
Bellatrix Lestrange was not happy. She had been granted the Ruby Master Room, a room rich in dark woods and deep red rich carpets and drapes with enough mirrors to provide an entire dressing room for a troupe of divas with new clothing all in her size filling three wardrobes.  
  
She had spent the majority of the past few weeks in it.  
  
Hiding at the top of the stairs like she had used to when she was a girl and spying on the adults with Sirius before they grew apart, she had learnt that the old Inner Circle of the Dark Lord had been regularly coming to meetings in Malfoy Manor.  
  
One one such night, dressed in a gown such a dark red it seemed black with a floor-length cloak to match, she was returning toher room, deeply aggravated as the men had moved to a different room, one she could not eavesdrop on, and they had all just left with annoyingly secretive smirkson their faces.  
  
She turned a corner, strides long and cat-like, and had walked right into someone. She stumbled, falling, cloak wrapped around herself, twisted around her body as she tumbled.  
  
Then two strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her up short, she was yanked back up, hair falling out of it's bun and cascading down her back.   
  
She was held tightly, securely against a man's chest. She looked up, face flushed from her near-fall.  
  
"Bellatrix." A low voice said, strangely harsh, as if it had not been used for a long time.  
  
She looked up, her dark eyes meeting amber ones.  
  
"Rabastan." She replied.  
  
She had not seen him since their escape from Azkaban. The dementors had affected him worse than her, he had spent the past few weeks healing, away from anywhere she could find.  
  
He smiled slightly, a enigmatic turning up of the corners of his lips.  
  
"What would you be doing up and around at this time of night?" He said it softly, a hint of teasing in that rough voice.  
  
She bristled, "Why should I not be up?" She said in a dangerous voice, almost hissing.  
  
He didn't answer her, instead lifting a hand to brush a strand of dark hair away from her face. After a long a long silence he commented, "Azkaban didn't change you much moi cherie. Still dark, still dangerous, still beautiful."  
  
She looked up at him sharply, suddenly accutely aware of how she was still kept pressed against his body.  
  
"Let me go of me." She said warningly.  
  
"Or what?" His voice lowered.  
  
"Or we'll never make it too the bedroom - ." She said huskily  
  
She never got to finish. The man whirled her around into a dark alcove, pressing his mouth against hers.  
  
--  
  
His ears had caught something else, coming down the hallway, striding purposefully, only one person walked with such an arrogant swagger.  
  
Lucius Malfoy.  
  
He glanced down at her, she was not supposed to be out and around the manor, Lucius would find a way to make her pay for being out.  
  
He looked to the side for a moment, and his eyes caught a shadow cast by a small archway. Perfect.  
  
He pushed her quickly into it, following her in there, pressing himself hard against her to fit. There was only one way to keep her quiet now. He shoved his head down, lips crashing onto hers. She arched against him, lifting her arms to wrap around his neck and pull him even closer to her. A sudden surge of lust coursed through him, filling his senses with rushing heat and reminding him how long he had been deprived of a woman's touch whilst imprisoned.  
  
Vaguely he registered that the footsteps had long passed and he pulled back from her, hands sliding down her arms. She looked up at him, cruelly glaring at him, holding him in her gaze as she violently pulled him down again, trailing a tongue across his jawline.  
  
He roughly forced himself away from her, "Lucius Malfoy." He whispered harshly, "He was heading towards your room, he will find you gone."  
  
She rose onto her toes, pulling him down slightly so that they were nose to nose. When she spoke, it was in a low, sultry purring that caressed his ears. "Then we'll have to provide me with an alibi, won't we?"  
  
Sirius was buzzing around the house, virtually bouncing off the walls. His excitement was barely contained and his eyes were sparking with energy. He raced around, checking everything.  
  
Tonight was the beginning of the festival.  
  
The Brazilian festival was huge, thousands of people in costumes, some on huge stilts with flowing wings others with costumes so heavy they were inhuman, with color whirling around before your very eyes and the music taking over all of your senses. Sirius had only ever heard it talked about, but the way the Brazilians spoke of it, with passion pouring out of them, told Sirius enough.  
  
He heard the door slam and the sound of feet pattering down the hallway.  
  
"Pa'foo!"  
  
Sirius ran down to where Harry was, excitement too great for such a meagre act as walking.  
  
"Yup?"  
  
Sirius faltered when he saw Harry's serious expression, at eight years old, the boy was only ever serious in meditation.  
  
"What is it Harry?"  
  
Harry looked up at Sirius, face tragically wreathed with despair.  
  
"Pa'foo'," he took a deep breath, "I can't go through with it."  
  
--  
  
Flashback  
  
"Pa'foo." Harry said hesitantly, looking up from the book on magical theory he was supposed to be reading.  
  
Sirius looked up from the newspaper, looking slightly bemused, "Yes?" He asked.  
  
"I think I'm in love."  
  
Sirius double-took. "You're only eight years old!" He blurted out involuntarily, then immediately regretted it.  
  
Harry's face became aggravated, "So?" He challenged.  
  
"Nothing, I was just shocked Harry. Do go on, who's the lucky girl?"  
  
For a moment Harry looked like he was going to correct Sirius's phrasing, then sighed and looked away, "Cat." He said simply.  
  
Sirius thought for a moment, "That red-head in your martial arts class, yeah?"  
  
Harry nodded glumly.  
  
Sirius nodded approvingly to himself, "Yes, she would be rather cute to someone your age."  
  
Harry's eyes widened in shock for a moment, before he scowled heavily at Sirius.  
  
Sirius looked at him innocently, "What?" He asked defensively.  
  
"You're supposed to be disapproving." Harry said simply.  
  
Sirius was taken aback, "Really, who says?" He asked, curious in spite of himself.  
  
"Jon." Harry said softly, "He said that parents don't like their kids going out too young." He was looking at the floor.  
  
Sirius broke into a laugh, Harry looked up, confused. "Well that explains it then." Sirius said in between chuckles, "I'm not your parent, I'm a godfather."  
  
Harry rose an eyebrow, mind completely taken off track by the new discovery, "they aren't?" He questioned, frowning.  
  
"Of course not, parents are stiff, strict people who stop all the fun, godfathers sneak in during the night and take their godchild partying without the parents' knowledge." Sirius deadpanned.   
  
"Oh." Harry's face cleared and he ran a hand through his forelock. "But Pa'foo, what can I do? I can't just go up to her and tell her." He wailed plaintively.  
  
Sirius's mien became positively devilish. "I have a plan." He whispered conspiringly.  
  
By the time night fell, Harry had promised Sirius that he, Harry Potter, would at least kiss Cat's cheek on the night of the festival.  
  
End Flashback  
  
--  
  
"Of course you can." Sirius exclaimed, "It's just a kiss on the cheek! If it all goes wrong you can just say it was congratulations for performing well or something."  
  
Harry's face still looked desperate, "But it won't be." He cried.  
  
Sirius resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "I know, Harry, but you say that so that you don't get embarrassed if she doesn't like you."  
  
--  
  
Color. Music. Dance. Sound. Drums. A swirling fall of crimson cloth, a whirling dancer, a parade of giants on stilts waltzing past. Women and men dancing as if possessed. High priestesses in wide hoop-dresses twirling elegantly, throwing flowers out to the crowd.  
  
The festival was well into its first night, and the time was endless, there was no thinking, no human faults, no inhibitions. It was just the music and the soul, laid bare for all the heavens to see.  
  
This was the festival of Brazil.  
  
And in the midst of the intoxicating chaos stood a small, dark haired boy with a bright lightning scar standing out against the sudden pallor of his usually tanned skin. Everything seemed to slow to him, the dancers, the music, the drums reduced to a rhythmic beat somewhere in the background of his mind.  
  
And then he leaned forwards, towards the red-head whom he had called out to only moments before, when the world had still seemed itself.  
  
Her mouth moved and her whisper echoed in his ears; "Harry?"  
  
Then his lips brushed against her cheek for the briefest of moments, and the world returned to normal speed.  
  
He straightened awkwardly, looking at the ground, a deep blush spreading high across his cheeks, too scared to look up at her.  
  
Moments passed, in which dancers and musicians swirled passed them, jostling and pushing them along. Harry stumbled, and involuntarily looked up.  
  
He didn't know later why he had said it. Perhaps it had been her eyes, her face, the music, something but the moment he looked up at her, the words escaped his lips.  
  
"I love you."  
  
He heard her sharp intake of breath, and mentally kicked himself, why had he said that? Why?!  
  
He started when she kissed him back, chastely pressing her lips to his for a moment.  
  
She looked up at him, eyes wide, then breathlessly replied, "Me too."  
  
In that moment, the exhilaration that flooded his body was so strong, he gasped.  
  
Little did he know, in that perfect minute, that the very next day, his world would be torn out from beneath him once again.  
  
--------------  
  
--  
  
That night, the brazilian man who was Harry Potter's music instructor would read the next morning's paper, fresh from the press.  
  
And he would read the article. He would see the photograph. And he would dial the hotline to report that he had seen a mass-murderer.  
  
-------- --  
  
A/N Whew! Sorry about the long wait guys, it's been a hectic few weeks. Anyway, a bit of fluff in this chapter, and I think I'll have to bump the rating up again for implications. sigh.  
  
Thanks to all the kind people with all the wonderful reviews. I am so not sure about this chapter, it, like, achieves nothing. Ah well, more on the plots next chapter, I hope...  
  
If you choose to review (note, no charges apply for reviews) any suggestions, constructive criticism, or ideas are welcomed, for though I do have a plot (one which is being tweaked constantly) I love it when people give me comments.  
  
Anyhow, I swear that I will write replies to reviews, but currently my access to the internet is extremely limited, especially with my laptop, Bartimaeus, incapacitated.  
  
Luv ya all,  
  
Rue D. 


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